A Wintery Friendship
by xuberfanx
Summary: Set a few months after the events in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve goes looking for answers. On a wintery night in eastern Europe, he finds a familiar face, or rather it finds him. No slash, Spoilers for ca:tws. (Now with chapter 2!)
1. Somewhere in Belarus

All rights are marvel's, i own nothing. well that's not true, i own a car and a laptop and a bed... but you know what i mean. I love these characters and the story that brought them together once again.

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**A Wintery Friendship**

The video flickered on the screen, the colors were faded and the sound tinny. The camera was aimed at a young man in torn and tattered clothing tied to a chair. A doctor was examining the stump that was all that was left of the man's left arm. A prod from the doctor's tool jerked the man awake. He fought feebly against his ties, then slumped listlessly back into the chair.

"What is your name, soldier?" an accented voice asked from off camera.

"Fuck you." was the reply. The man's words were slurred and his eyes fought to focus on the speaker.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Hell," was the whispered reply as the man slipped back into drugged delusion, his eyes focused on the camera once before closing.

The video went black for a moment before a second video appeared. The same man, this time in grey pants and a plain white t-shirt, was tied to a wall. His jaw was clenched and his brow determined. Three hooded figures approached, they patiently took turns each delivering a carefully placed punch, enough to hurt the prisoner, but never in the same place twice and never drawing blood. As the punches came, the prisoner stared forward, in defiance of the violent onslaught, he began to sing. His words were interspersed with grunts of pain, but the lyrics were clear enough:

"_Who's strong and brave, here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right night and day? Who will campaign door-to-door for America, Carry the flag shore to shore for America, From Hoboken to Spokane, The Star Spang—_"

The defiant prisoner stopped singing abruptly as one last punch broke his nose. He gasped, and his eyes rolled back as his head flopped down.

The video changed once again. This time the man was standing on his own, his face blank, void of emotion. As he stood, men around him spoke to the camera in Polish. They were explaining to the camera, motioning to the prisoner and the chair beside him. A tall, blond, and bearded man in a lab coat motioned to the prisoner. He obediently sat in the chair and allowed himself to be tied down; he even helped to tighten the strap around his torso. Two men positioned a metallic ring around the man's head. After securing the device, the labcoated man nodded off screen. The prisoner jerked into listless convulsions as bolts of electricity racked his brain.

The screen that had been showing the video went black. Steve Rogers backed away slowly, his attention turning from the screen to the chair that sat in the center of the room. The very same chair where Bucky had received dozens of electrical shocks. If Steve had understood what the Polish scientists were saying correctly, the video showed Bucky's 14th shock treatment.

"Oh Buck…" he whispered quietly, his eyes lingering on the electrode ring sitting on the seat.

Steve glanced down at his watch, realizing that he had stayed in the run-down lab much longer than he had planned on. He made one last go-over of the many drawers in the desk before him, making sure he had gathered all the paperwork he could find. He drew one last sheet of paper out of a cabinet and shoved it into his backpack, he would look through the papers at a more secure location. Though he doubted that Hydra had left anything important at the lab, something might point him to his next destination.

Captain America had spent the last three months trying to find clues about what had happened to Bucky over the past 70 years. The official S.H.I.E.L.D. file had led to dead ends in Germany, Ukraine, and Siberia. Finally, the name of a Soviet scientist listed in the file had led him to this buried facility near the Polish/Belarusian border.

Sparing one last glance at the lab, Steve turned and fled, taking the stairs three at a time. Outside the facility, a run-down coupe waited for him in the gravel drive. Snow had started to fall and the wind was picking up. An October blizzard was looming. He was fitting the key into the door when a shadow shifted in the snow. Steve didn't need to think, he drew his pistol and faced the threatening shadow.

The shadow stood 20 feet away and was dressed in dark jeans and a black wool jacket, he had the hood drawn against the wind and snow. There were no weapons visible, but Steve new the man was bristling with knives and guns, not to mention the metallic arm, which was a formidable weapon in its own right.

The Winter Soldier showed his empty hands placatingly, Steve slowly lowered his weapon not taking his eyes away. The two men simply looked at each other through the billowing snow, they were both tense, prepared to defend themselves if need be, but both of them were soaking in the other's face.

Finally, Steve broke the silence, "Did you go down there?" he inclined his head toward the bunker door that led to the lab.

"I did," was the reply.

"You watch the video?"

"I did," The Winter Soldier approached the Captain slowly, continuing to watch him carefully. "From what I've learned, I should remember you," The dark haired man said slowly, "But I don't," The soldier now stood no more than 6 feet away.

"Then why let me live? Why save me after I fell into the Potomac?" Steve asked.

The Winter Soldier, if that who he even was anymore, finally looked away. His gaze drifted over the bunker and trees, but he was looking far away, looking inside himself for an answer. Finally, he let out a puff of air and looked back at the Captain. "Because even though I know you only as a mission, every piece of my being was telling me to stop, telling me that I couldn't let you die." The soldier looked away but kept talking, "I don't know anything but my mission. I don't know who I am, where I've been, or how I came to be what I am, but I do know that when every instinct I have is telling me to stop, I stop."

Steve looked at his friend with determination. "I know who you are, you are Bucky Barnes, the closest thing I have to a brother. As for where you've been and how you came to be what you are," Steve paused to think, and then nodded to himself, "how about we figure that out together."

Bucky gave one short nod and took another step toward Steve, extending his hand. Steve grasped it cautiously, but firmly.


	2. On the Road

All rights are marvel's, I own nothing. Well that's not true, I own a car and a laptop and a bed... but you know what I mean. I love these characters and the story that brought them together once again.

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"Is this normal? It's October!" Captain America said as he tapped the steering wheel repeatedly with his right hand. The wipers were going at full-tilt and Steve was leaning as close to the window as he could, trying to see through the swirling snowstorm.

The dark figure sitting in the passenger seat said nothing. He was sitting back in his seat as far as he could, his arms were crossed and his shoulders hunched. He was staring out the front window through his long hair, but Steve had felt the passenger's eyes on him from time to time. The two men had said little to each other, just enough to agree that Minsk should be their destination. Steve's friend Sam Wilson was waiting for them there.

They had been driving through the night. The trip from the Polish border to Minsk, Belarus should have taken three and a half hours at the most. They were entering the fourth hour and were little more than half way there. The blizzard left much to be desired in terms of tire traction and visibility. Not to mention the two men were cramped into a tiny, two door, Russian make that had to be at least 20 years old. Steve had picked up the abandoned automobile behind a grocery store outside of Kiev. He now thought he should have left it there.

Steve settled back into his seat and glanced sidelong at his former friend. Steve knew desperation was the only reason this man had come out of the shadows and approached him. Both of them where men out of their own time, but their situations couldn't be more different. Steve wasn't even sure who the man even was, how had the past 70 years changed the boy he grew up with.

"What should a call you?" Steve asked quietly, he knew that they needed talk, now seemed as good a time as any, "You don't like it when I use 'Bucky.' and 'Winter Soldier' is a mouthful."

Bucky leaned his head against his window and made a grumbly noise deep in his throat, "'Bucky' seems… taken. The only thing I have in common with Bucky Barnes is a face. The agents I worked with called me 'soldier' or 'the asset.'"

"Those aren't names, those are descriptions. I can't say 'Hey, Asset pass me the salt,' people might look at me weird." Steve smiled wryly, but his humor was answered by silence.

The wind picked up outside, blowing the snow sideways across the windshield. Steve fought with the wheel, mumbling under his breath about weather that wouldn't stay in its own season. The wheels spun under the car, looking for traction as the car fought its way up a hill.

"I could push, but I'd have to do it on every hill until we reach Minsk," the soldier said quietly, "Pull over there and wait until the morning." He pointed to a closed down gas station.

Steve turned the wheel and tried to get the car into the empty lot, but in the end the car still needed a push. The engine sighed with exhaustion when Steve finally shut it down.

Steve pulled blankets from the back seat and offered one to his quiet partner as he brushed the snow from his shoulder. He declined the towel with a shake of his head, he spoke up, "'Bucky' is a nickname anyway and the name I was born with was 'James' right?"

"Yes, But you only used it in the military. You were named for your grandfather, your mother's father." As Steve spoke he drew out the Barnes family tree on the steering wheel, pointing to the individuals as he spoke. Desperate for something to talk about, he began to ramble, "Your middle name, 'Buchanan,' was someone's maiden name, think it might have been your father's moth—no she was a Jones, cause her brother lived over by prospect park and he was Frankie Jones. So that name must have been you mother's mother's maiden name."

The individual in question stared at Steve, "How do you know?"

"I've known you since I was seven," Steve replied. As he spoke he fought with his seat, trying to lean it back, it fought him every inch, but finally locked into place halfway back. "When you know someone that long you end up knowing everything about them. My dad died when I was young, your mom when you were young, we made up for our losses through each other's family."

"Oh… For now… call me James." He pulled his jacket closer around him, the heat was fading fast.

"I can do that, James. And would you take the damn blanket!" Steve shoved the rolled up bundle into James' lap. He took the blanket, tucked it around him and set his head against the window.

They both watched the snow falling in sheets around the car. The car was too cramped, the weather too cold, and the situation too uncomfortable for either of them to get any sleep. They settled in for a long night.

The snowy clouds were starting to lighten when Steve spoke again, quietly. "What do you remember?"

Steve thought his passenger was asleep when no answer came right away, but after a pause James spoke, "More and more every day, but nothing that I can put together, just flashes, images."

"Like?"

"Different labs, like the one back there. Standing outside a church watching three men enter. Sparing with a teenage girl, no older that 12 or 13. Running toward a nuclear power-plant. Watching a train on the side of a mountain. Sniping from the roof of a building. Getting shot point blank in the stomach by an African woman. And waking up in a coffin, it must have been the the cryo-freeze chamber, but I remember waking up and thinking I was in a coffin." James looked at Steve, "Does any of that make sense to you?"

"Tell me about the train." Steve's heart was in his throat with anticipation.

"Er, I'm standing on a cliff face watching a train across a ravine, its snowy. There are people standing around me talking, I was scared about the height of the cliff over the ravine."

Steve was silent for a long time, he sighed and shifted in his seat.

"Yeah, that was with me. We were going to cross the ravine—" Steve stopped suddenly when the gears of his seat finally came loose, the back collapsed against the rear seat with a thump. Steve cursed as he fought with it, now that the gears were loosened it wouldn't even stay upright, it just flopped back down again. He stopped when he heard a sound beside him. James was watching him struggle with the seat and shaking quietly, holding back laughter. Steve grinned and James finally let the laughter out. Leaning forward he buried his face in his hands and shook his head back and forth.

"I'm glad you find it funny." Steve said with chagrin, he flopped down onto the now flat chair. James lowered his seat back all the way to join his partner and put his hands behind his head.

"I fell didn't I, I fell into the ravine."

"Yeah. I tried to reach you, but you still fell, we assumed you were dead, it was a 500 foot drop. What I wouldn't give if I could just go back and tell myself that you survived the fall."

"Maybe I should be glad I can't remember all the mistakes I've made. Maybe knowing what I've done isn't worth the pain." He sat up and watched as a snow-plow rumbled past in the morning light, the snow had slowed to flurries. "But I guess if I don't learn _about_ my mistakes, I won't ever get a chance to learn _from_ them." He lay back down and flexed his metal hand in front of his face, "maybe I can even fix some of them."

"See James, I knew you still deserved the name 'Bucky'" The Captain said sleepily.

The sun broke through the cold clouds as Steve and Bucky fell asleep.


End file.
